


Stones In My Pocket

by orphan_account



Series: Prophets, Warriors, Sinners, Saints [5]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helena had objections to Laura's decision to take chemalla for her cancer.  She finds out first hand that not all the side effects are negative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stones In My Pocket

When Helena Cain worried about something, it almost manifested itself physically.  It was nearly tangible, a weight that she almost literally carried.  Not on her shoulders, though, as one would bear a steady weight as they moved forward; more like stones in her pocket, heavy, loose, jagged, banging this way and that and finding new ways to irritate her as she went about her business.  

She made her way to the President’s private quarters on Colonial One, conscious of the weight of any number of these imaginary stones in the pocket of her immaculate uniform.  All of those stones had Laura Roslin’s name on them.  

It had been a few days since they’d fought about whether Laura was going to go ahead with taking the Chamalla, and they’d not seen each other since. Helena had argued vehemently against it; there was little evidence that it would help Laura’s cancer, and she had deeper concerns about its hallucinogenic effects and all the trappings of religious hokum that Helena had no patience for.  

Plus, there was a simple matter of selfishness.  Though Helena would deny it if asked, Laura had become an anchor of sorts for her; the President’s clarity of mind and quiet strength had become a counterweight to her own quick, brutal instincts.  Helena had come to love and even need that clarity.  Laura Roslin, accidental president of the twelve colonies, saw all the way into her, in a way no-one else did.  Helena could hardly bear the thought of losing that mind to mysticism and drugs.  

Her attempt to express this in their last conversation came across only as anger.  This time, she had a well-thought-out speech prepared.  She knocked on the door.  It was late, but no matter.  The stones in her pocket would not wait until morning.

When Laura answered the door in her nightclothes, Helena momentarily forgot what she’d come to say.  Her lover’s face was dreamy, beatific, and the light in the room was low enough that Laura and everything else in the room looked as if it was covered in honey.  Laura pulled her inside and the door closed behind her.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered, and slid her arms around Helena’s neck.  

Helena searched her face for a moment.  The shadows lovingly cupped her cheekbones, her lips, crept into the lowlights of her auburn hair that tumbled down her shoulders.  “Are you high?” Helena asked, her brow furrowed unhappily.

“I’ve taken a dose, yes,” Laura murmured.  She looked sweetly at Helena’s face, almost seeming touched by her concern.  She pulled Helena’s face down for a kiss, but Helena resisted at first.

“You’re high,” she objected.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh, Admiral,” Laura sighed, chuckling and calmly but purposefully undoing the buttons on Helena’s jacket.  “It’s the  best  idea.”

Helena watched Laura’s long fingers work the buttons.  “I need you clear, Laura,” she whispered.  “I need you to see me.”  She wanted to resist, but Laura’s fingers were calm and persistent and Helena’s body was responding to their efforts.  It knew what came after Laura calmly undressed her, and it wanted that.

Laura stopped, looking at her, blue eyes twinkling.  “But I am clear.  And I do see you.  You’re the only thing I  can see, Helena.”

And this time, when Laura pulled her down for a kiss, she didn’t resist.  She let herself be pulled, slowly, gently, into the softness of Laura’s mouth, lingering there.  It was different from the way they kissed most times; it had all the hunger, all of the heat, but it was deep, slow, tender.  Helena found her hands slipping up to cup Laura’s face between them, tracing her thumbs over those beautiful cheekbones.  She drew breath from Laura’s mouth as Laura continued to slowly, steadily unfasten all the buttons and clasps that held Helena’s jacket together.  She marveled at the softness of their kisses as Laura slid the jacket off her shoulders and let it land in a heap on the floor.

“I need you,” Laura whispered.  “I need to feel you.”   

Helena continued to kiss her, surprised but utterly caught in the charm of this different, gentle, dreamy Laura, whose hands were moving over her, undressing her without effort.  They remained standing in the middle of the floor, kissing softly, until Laura had gotten her down to her black underthings and was slipping the thin, white nightdress over her head, underneath which she wore nothing else.

“My warrior,”  Laura sighed, and pressed the fullness of her naked self against Helena.

My warrior .  Helena felt the warmth surge up in her stomach when Laura used this endearment.  It had started as a drunken joke one night, but it meant something to Helena.  It told her that Laura valued that part of her.  And right now, it told her that whatever effects the drugs were having, Laura still saw and loved it.

She slid her hands down the soft skin of Laura’s back and pressed harder into her.  This wasn’t the conversation she’d been planning on having but she couldn’t stop herself.  “Do you want to go to bed, Laura?” she whispered.

“Yes, take me to bed,” Laura answered quietly.  But it wasn't delivered in that ruler-wielding tone she sometimes used.  It was a soft urging.  “You need it too.”  She wound one of her long, shapely legs around Helena’s thigh, encouraging her.

Helena realized Laura was right.   I do need it,  she thought.  She needed to not be angry and frustrated and afraid.  She needed to be close to her.  The feel of her skin, of Laura winding against her, could soothe so much of what ailed her.  Helena's body, exhausted from stress and worry, found a surge of strength.  She gripped Laura's thighs and lifted her petite body clear off of the floor, felt those gorgeous legs wrap themselves around her waist.  

Laura flung her arms around Helena and whispered again, "My warrior."  She buried her face in the side of Helena's neck and continued murmuring as Helena marched toward the bed, "My rock, my strength.... My green earth...."

Helena didn't understand what the hell Laura was saying but she knew it meant love.  She shifted her hand and slipped a finger into Laura as she carried her, causing a slightly louder moan than she was expecting.  She quickly kissed her to muffle it.  “Sssh, Madam President,” she mumbled against her lips.  “We don’t want the guards to come running.”  Laura was so wet already, so soft and ready for her, Helena expected it was going to be a trick to keep the volume down tonight.

Not that she was complaining.

She gently set Laura down on the bed, where she lay, stretched out and languid as a calm sea, watching Helena finish stripping.  She felt Laura’s eyes traveling, savoring her face, her neck, her buffed shoulders, stiff nipples, flat stomach crossed with a few scars, muscular thighs.    

“Beautiful,” Laura remarked.

Helena shook her head.  “Beautiful is your job, not mine.”  And she did it well.  Helena settled onto the bed and sat, straddling one of Laura’s thighs, looking at her hair fanned out on the pillow around her head, the play of shadows over her breasts and hips.  She was like the old artworks of the goddesses, divine and sensual.  She placed  finger at the base of Laura’s throat and drew it lightly down between her breasts, down her stomach, softly down the cloud of dark hair between her legs, and then slid it carefully back into her.  She was rewarded with another deeply pleasured moan.

“Only because you don’t see yourself,” Laura sighed after she caught her breath enough.

Helena felt deeply uncomfortable at hearing this; she didn’t want to be beautiful.  It was too much pressure. She needed Laura to carry that burden.  She began gently sliding her finger in and out of Laura, partly just to enjoy the ecstatic look on her face, and partly because if she was moaning, maybe she’d stop talking about that.  

And it worked, for a few moments.  Laura hung onto her wrist, moving her hips against Helena’s finger, sighing deeply.  Helena’s lips curled with satisfaction.  Laura was a vision when lost in the throes of pleasure.  

But after a few moments of this, Laura gently pulled Helena’s finger out of her, still smiling that strange, soft smile.  “Don’t worry about me,” she said.  “Worry about you.”

“What?”

“Worry about you.”  She kept looking into Helena’s face, trailing her lips and tongue over the finger that had just been inside her.

Helena paused, suddenly grasping Laura’s meaning.  Not that it was a problem, but she’d never asked for that before.  Her free hand drifted up in between her legs, she dipped her fingers into her own wetness, and dragged it up to her clit, stroking lightly up and down.  They stared into each other’s faces, Laura still nibbling and kissing her fingers while Helena pleasured herself to Laura’s apparent enjoyment.  

“Beautiful,”  Laura said again, watching Helena with eyes full of dreamy desire.  

Helena paused.  “Laura…” she began uncomfortably.

“Ssh,” Laura interjected.  “Don’t stop.  Just do this for me.”

Helena hesitated, but then continued touching herself, enjoying Laura’s mouth kissing her fingertips and knuckles.  

“Don’t worry,” Laura went on between gentle kisses.  “You’re not beautiful like you’re afraid of being.  You’re not beautiful like a flower.  You’re beautiful like … an exploding star.  You’re beautiful like an avalanche.  You’re beautiful like a lightning storm.”

Helena moaned softly, the pleasure suddenly welling up.

“There it is,” Laura sighed, delighted.  She stopped kissing Helena’s hand and guided it back down between her legs, into her folds.  “Do you see?”  she asked with a soft smile.  “We’re the same.  We need each other.”  She held Helena’s hand in place and slowly ground her hips against it, never breaking eye contact.

Helena wasn’t sure she did see, but she felt flush with pleasure at the way Laura was looking at her.  The word “beautiful” kept echoing in her head, and she was realizing how much more complex the word was than she’d thought before.  She loved tough Laura, strong Laura, smart Laura … but this softness was intoxicating.  She was almost dizzy, the heat growing as she stroked her own wetness with one hand and felt Laura’s with her other hand.  If this was the effect of the drugs, so frakking be it, she thought.  She knew it was impossible to be sharing the same headspace, yet here she was, close to coming, feeling something new and different in it.  Laura was seeing something in her, sharing something with her, that she hadn’t before.  Her fingers moved more quickly now, approaching the explosion of orgasm, but the orgasm was almost beside the point.  

“You’re close,” Laura observed, continuing to rock softly against Helena’s hand.

Helena nodded.

“It’s ok,” Laura insisted.  “Don’t worry about me.”

Helena felt the sweat breaking on her skin as she drew closer to her peak.

“Love yourself,”  Laura whispered.  “Love yourself like I love you.”  

Something about those words hit at Helena’s core.  She was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions she was struggling to name, staring at Laura with a stricken look.  She wanted to lose herself, disappear into her, dissolve into the warmth that radiated from those blue eyes of hers right now.  She came, trembling, near tears, feeling desire and feeling desired, seen and understood, naked and needing this woman more than she had even known.   


The point was not the orgasm at all, it was the intimacy, and more than that, the overwhelming feeling of finally making space to love their most damaged selves.

Laura continued moving against her hand but looked at her with a bottomless joy and satisfaction, watching her shake and enjoying the pleasure racing through her lover’s body.  “That’s it,” she encouraged through Helena’s moaning, “that’s it.  Perfect."

Helena slowly rubbed herself until she'd wrung every last bit of pleasure out that she could stand, and then slowly collapsed onto the bed, lying half on, and half off of Laura's body.  Laura was still holding Helena's hand against her, but she'd gone momentarily still.

"It was wonderful to see you do that for yourself," Laura sighed after a long quiet.

Helena gave her a small, bewildered smile.  "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she answered finally.

"You needed to," Laura insisted gently.  

They shared a long kiss.

"You don't need to be afraid of this," Laura told her after another quiet.

Helena sighed.  "It's not what I expected," she admitted.

"There's more to it, but... No, I don't think it's anything to be afraid of.". She kissed Helena again.  "I don't want to be a stone in your pocket."

Helena stared at her.   How could she know?   "Don't," she admonished.  "You're not.". It was a lie, of course.  She'd given her heart to someone she knew she was going to lose.  She began idly stroking Laura, gently building her arousal as she spoke, trying to steer her away from that conversation.

"You're a shitty liar," Laura breathed, grinning at her.  

Helena smiled back, focusing the purpose of her touch around that stiff little bundle of nerves that sent those wonderful tremors through Laura’s body.  She knew how to stroke Laura the way she liked it, and Laura made no effort to restrain her gratitude for it.  

“See?  I’m still alive,” Laura sighed, teasing.  She was reading Helena like a book.  

And gods, but she felt so alive under Helena’s touch, the heave of her ribs against Helena’s body, the heat of her breaths, the light sheen of sweat on her skin, the warmth of her sex that Helena knew her way around so well.  The sweet intensity of her scent filled Helena’s senses.  It was so easy to pull her along like this, build the pleasure up until it hit a crescendo.  She watched with a thrill in her gut as Laura’s body arched up off of the bed, the pitch of her moans sweet and high, the grip of her fingers on the sheets so tight that Helena could see her knuckles turning white.  She watched with an ache in her bones, as the bliss filled Laura’s face and finally closed her eyes, and wave after wave of orgasm washed over her.  

Helena wasn’t counting, but she knew that it was lasting far longer than usual.  Each time it seemed Laura was winding down, another wave rolled through her and rendered her momentarily stiff, and then sweet and deliciously loose.  Finally, when it seemed she was finished, Helena pulled her hand away and tasted her fingers.  

Laura turned on her side and they lay face to face, grinning stupidly at each other, Laura’s leg thrown over Helena’s hip.  They kissed slowly for a few minutes, tasting each other’s mouths as if they had forgotten one another.  “What the hell was that?”  Helena finally asked.

Laura looked sleepy and her hair was a little messy.  “I don’t know,” Laura answered with a tired little smile.  “But I want to do it again.”

Helena snorted.  “Again? You look like you’re about to pass out right now.”

“Ye of little faith,” Laura scolded, with a naughty smirk playing around her lips that Helena knew well enough to know was a taunt.

“You’re damn right I am,” Helena rejoined.  She rolled Laura onto her back, and began kissing her way down her body.  

This was going to be a long night.


End file.
